


Not Enough

by offensiveagentpie



Category: Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: Comfort, Fluff, Gen, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-17
Updated: 2012-12-17
Packaged: 2017-11-21 09:15:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/596029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/offensiveagentpie/pseuds/offensiveagentpie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vince can’t get sick, can’t be all sniffly and groggy and well…sick. </p><p>Part of the 100 prompts challenge: 34. Not Enough</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Enough

Vince wakes up with a cold. It’s an outright injustice is what it is. Vince can’t get sick, can’t be all sniffly and groggy and well…sick. There are tons of things he has to do, lots of outfits he has to wear for lots of admirers to admire. But it happens; he wakes up with a cold and it’s quite the doozy.

Shuffling out into the kitchen, he sneezes twice as he spreads far too much Nutella on his toast. He hears Howard come in behind him and turns to say good morning, but stops when he sees the wide eyed look of terror on his best mate’s face.

“Mornin’ Vi—whoa!”

Vince sneezes once more. “Whut?”

“Y-your hair! Vince! And…and that’s my robe you’re wearing! The one you told me looks like it belongs to an aging Geography teacher! Are you dying?”

Heaving a mighty sniff, Vince picks up his plate and manages a pout at Howard. “M’sick Howard…got a bloody cold…I think I am dying, yeah.” He doesn’t mention the fact that he could barely stand to look at his droopy eyed, red nosed face in the mirror this morning, let alone look at it long enough to do his hair. He also neglects to bring up Howard’s robe. His wardrobe might be one of the most fabulous and fashionable in all London, but it wasn’t exactly comfy, especially if you had a cold. Howard’s robe, despite being a fashion disaster that should be burned, was really fluffy and well…it didn’t hurt that it smelled like the aftershave that Howard used either.

Howard remained silent, still staring from Vince’s hair to the robe and back, eyes wide and mouth gaping open. Vince allowed him a few seconds more for a reply before shuffling past him back to his room.

Once there, he sat on his bed, regarded his toast for a moment, decided against it, and flopped down into the blankets falling right back to sleep.

It’s evening when he opens his eyes to the sound of his name being softly called from the doorway. 

“Nnn-yeah?” he mumbles.

Howard walks quietly in, sitting on the edge of his bed. “How you doing, Little Man?”

Vince smiles at the use of the nick name. “How’s it look like m’ doing? I feel awful…”

Howard makes a non-committal noise of agreement. “Look, sorry I had a little freak out this morning. You did look kind of like a monster Mums warn their kids about though.”

“Christ,” Vince moans and pulls the covers over his head.

“Joking!” Howard chuckles, tugging the blankets back down. “Here, brought you some medicine from Naboo. Take some and I’ll go and fetch the tea I made you.”

Vince reluctantly sits up and takes the bright purple bottle and spoon from Howard. He supposes he can suffer through the medicine…the tea, though, sounds wonderful.

He’s just about to put the spoon in his mouth, when Howard returns with a steaming mug in his hand.

“Whoa now, Vince. What’s that then?”

“S’my medicine.”

Howard looks doubtfully at the spoon in his hand. There is a single drop of red liquid on it. “That’s not enough.”

Vince wrinkles his nose. “It’s too much. It smells terrible, like someone put maple syrup on old rubbish.”

“Yeah, well, if it’s going to get you better, it needs to be a bit more than that.” Howard sits the tea down, takes the bottle from his hand and measures out a spoon full. “Go on then.”

“Get the tea ready, yeah? M’gonna need to wash this down fast.” With a grimace, he swallows. Throat burning and eyes watering, he grabs the tea from Howard and downs the entire mug in one go. He groans out an, “ugh”, before collapsing onto the bed once again.

“That bad, huh?”

Vince groans again, feeling the bed shift as Howard props his back up against his headboard. He can slightly feel Howard’s warmth, but it’s not enough to be considered a nice, proper snuggle. “So…” Howard begins and pauses. “I suppose I can eventually wrap my head around the fact that you didn’t have the energy to do up your hair this morning…”

Vince burrows into the pillow, not liking where the conversation is going. “But, I don’t see why you stole my robe from the bathroom.” Vince burrows deeper, wondering if feigning sleep will get Howard to leave. All it does, however, is earn him a gentle prod in the ribs. “Come on, Vince.”

If he didn’t know better, Vince would swear there was a playful note in Howard’s voice. “S’none of your business.”

“It’s my robe; I think it’s very much my business, sir.”

“Don’t make me talk, Howard, m’sick remember? It was a lapse in fashion judgment.”

“Quite the lapse, seeing as how your neon green sequin one was right beside it.”

Vince is practically burrowed through the pillow at this point, but he mumbles out a response nonetheless.

“Sorry Vince, I didn’t quite catch that.”

With a melodramatic sigh, Vince turns over and flops his arm around Howard’s waist, nuzzling into his shoulder. “It’s comfier than mine and it smells nice so I put it on because I felt like shit…happy?”

Howard, who had gone stock still from the moment Vince touched him, merely nodded with a quiet, “Oh.”

They’re both quiet for a moment; Vince relishing the warmth of being able to cuddle so close to Howard, and Howard relaxing, slowly but surely.

“You realize you’re gonna end up with my cold…breathing in my air like some demented Hoover with a moustache,” Vince says with a yawn. He only half hears Howard going on about how a man of action would never fall prey to something so common place, before he falls into a comfortable sleep.

 

In the morning…Howard wakes up with a cold.


End file.
